No More Learning

]

[Re-enter Mrs. MALAPROP and Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
Come, we must interrupt your billing and cooing awhile.

LYDIA
This is worse than your treachery and deceit, you base ingrate!
[Sobbing. ]

Sir ANTHONY
What the devil's the matter now? --Zounds! Mrs. Malaprop, this is the
oddest billing and cooing I ever heard! --but what the deuce is the
meaning of it? --I am quite astonished!

ABSOLUTE
Ask the lady, sir.

Mrs. MALAPROP
O mercy! --I'm quite analyzed, for my part! --Why, Lydia, what is the
reason of this?

LYDIA
Ask the gentleman, ma'am.

Sir ANTHONY
Zounds! I shall be in a frenzy! --Why, Jack, you are not come out to be
any one else, are you?

Mrs. MALAPROP
Ay, sir, there's no more trick, is there? --you are not like Cerberus,
three gentlemen at once, are you?

ABSOLUTE
You'll not let me speak--I say the lady can account for this much much
better than I can.

LYDIA
Ma'am, you once commanded me never to think of Beverley again--there is
the man--I now obey you: for, from this moment, I renounce him for
ever. [Exit. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
O mercy! and miracles! what a turn here is--why, sure, captain, you
haven't behaved disrespectfully to my niece.

Sir ANTHONY
Ha! ha! ha! --ha! ha! ha! --now I see it. Ha! ha! ha! --now I see it--you
have been too lively, Jack.

ABSOLUTE
Nay, sir, upon my word----

Sir ANTHONY
Come, no lying, Jack--I'm sure 'twas so.

Mrs. MALAPROP
O Lud! Sir Anthony! --O fy, captain!

ABSOLUTE
Upon my soul, ma'am----

Sir ANTHONY
Come, no excuses, Jack; why, your father, you rogue, was so before
you:--the blood of the Absolutes was always impatient. --Ha! ha! ha!
poor little Lydia! why, you've frightened her, you dog, you have.

ABSOLUTE
By all that's good, sir----

Sir ANTHONY
Zounds! say no more, I tell you--Mrs. Malaprop shall make your peace.
You must make his peace, Mrs. Malaprop:--you must tell her 'tis Jack's
way--tell her 'tis all our ways--it runs in the blood of our family!
Come away, Jack--Ha! ha! ha! --Mrs. Malaprop--a young villain! [Pushing
him out. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
O! Sir Anthony! --O fy, captain!

[Exeunt severally. ]

* * * * * * *


Scene III--The North Parade.
[Enter Sir LUCIUS O'TRIGGER. ]

Sir LUCIUS
I wonder where this Captain Absolute hides himself! Upon my conscience!
these officers are always in one's way in love affairs:--I remember I
might have married Lady Dorothy Carmine, if it had not been for a
little rogue of a major, who ran away with her before she could get a
sight of me! And I wonder too what it is the ladies can see in them to
be so fond of them--unless it be a touch of the old serpent in 'em,
that makes the little creatures be caught, like vipers, with a bit of
red cloth. Ha! isn't this the captain coming? --faith it is! --There is a
probability of succeeding about that fellow, that is mighty provoking!
Who the devil is he talking to? [Steps aside. ]

[Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. ]

ABSOLUTE
[Aside. ] To what fine purpose I have been plotting! a noble reward for
all my schemes, upon my soul! --a little gipsy! --I did not think her
romance could have made her so damned absurd either. 'Sdeath, I never
was in a worse humour in my life! --I could cut my own throat, or any
other person's, with the greatest pleasure in the world!

Sir LUCIUS
Oh, faith! I'm in the luck of it. I never could have found him in a
sweeter temper for my purpose--to be sure I'm just come in the nick!
Now to enter into conversation with him, and so quarrel
genteelly. --[Goes up to CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. ] With regard to that matter,
captain, I must beg leave to differ in opinion with you.

ABSOLUTE
Upon my word, then, you must be a very subtle disputant:--because, sir,
I happened just then to be giving no opinion at all.

Sir LUCIUS
That's no reason. For give me leave to tell you, a man may think an
untruth as well as speak one.

ABSOLUTE
Very true, sir; but if a man never utters his thoughts, I should think
they might stand a chance of escaping controversy.

Sir LUCIUS
Then, sir, you differ in opinion with me, which amounts to the same
thing.

ABSOLUTE
Hark'ee, Sir Lucius; if I had not before known you to be a gentleman,
upon my soul, I should not have discovered it at this interview: for
what you can drive at, unless you mean to quarrel with me, I cannot
conceive!

Sir LUCIUS
I humbly thank you, sir, for the quickness of your
apprehension. --[Bowing. ] You have named the very thing I would be at.

ABSOLUTE
Very well, sir; I shall certainly not balk your inclinations. --But I
should be glad you would please to explain your motives.

Sir LUCIUS
Pray, sir, be easy; the quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands;
we should only spoil it by trying to explain it. However, your memory
is very short, or you could not have forgot an affront you passed on me
within this week. So, no more, but name your time and place.

ABSOLUTE
Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the sooner the better; let it
be this evening--here, by the Spring Gardens. We shall scarcely be
interrupted.

Sir LUCIUS
Faith! that same interruption in affairs of this nature shows very
great ill-breeding. I don't know what's the reason, but in England if a
thing of this kind gets wind, people make such a pother, that a
gentleman can never fight in peace and quietness. However, if it's the
same to you, captain, I should take it as a particular kindness if
you'd let us meet in King's-Mead-Fields, as a little business will call
me there about six o'clock, and I may despatch both matters at once.

ABSOLUTE
'Tis the same to me exactly. A little after six, then, we will discuss
this matter more seriously.

Sir LUCIUS
If you please, sir; there will be very pretty small-sword light, though
it won't do for a long shot. So that matter's settled, and my mind's at
ease! [Exit. ]

[Enter FAULKLAND. ]

ABSOLUTE
Well met! I was going to look for you. O Faulkland! all the demons of
spite and disappointment have conspired against me! I'm so vex'd, that
if I had not the prospect of a resource in being knocked o' the head
by-and-by, I should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause.

FAULKLAND
What can you mean? --Has Lydia changed her mind? --I should have thought
her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object.

ABSOLUTE
Ay, just as the eyes do of a person who squints: when her love-eye was
fixed on me, t'other, her eye of duty, was finely obliqued: but when
duty bid her point that the same way, off t'other turned on a swivel,
and secured its retreat with a frown!

FAULKLAND
But what's the resource you----

ABSOLUTE
Oh, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irishman here has--[Mimicking
Sir LUCIUS] begged leave to have the pleasure of cutting my throat; and
I mean to indulge him--that's all.

FAULKLAND
Prithee, be serious!

ABSOLUTE
'Tis fact, upon my soul! Sir Lucius O'Trigger--you know him by
sight--for some affront, which I am sure I never intended, has obliged
me to meet him this evening at six o'clock: 'tis on that account I
wished to see you; you must go with me.

FAULKLAND
Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. Sir Lucius shall explain
himself, and I dare say matters may be accommodated. But this evening
did you say? I wish it had been any other time.

ABSOLUTE
Why? there will be light enough: there will (as Sir Lucius says) be
very pretty small-sword light, though it will not do for a long shot.
Confound his long shots.

FAULKLAND
But I am myself a good deal ruffled by a difference I have had with
Julia. My vile tormenting temper has made me treat her so cruelly, that
I shall not be myself till we are reconciled.

ABSOLUTE
By heavens! Faulkland, you don't deserve her!

[Enter SERVANT, gives FAULKLAND a letter, and exit. ]

FAULKLAND
Oh, Jack! this is from Julia. I dread to open it! I fear it may be to
take a last leave! --perhaps to bid me return her letters, and
restore--Oh,




ST. PATRICK'S DAY;

OR, THE SCHEMING LIEUTENANT


_A FARCE_




DRAMATIS PERSONAE

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1775

LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR _Mr. Clinch_.
DR. ROSY _Mr. Quick_.
JUSTICE CREDULOUS _Mr. Lee Lewes_.
SERJEANT TROUNCE _Mr. Booth_.
CORPORAL FLINT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
LAURETTA _Mrs. Cargill_.
MRS. BRIDGET CREDULOUS _Mrs. Pitt_.

Drummer, Soldiers, Countrymen, _and_ Servant.

SCENE--A TOWN IN ENGLAND.




ACT I.

SCENE I. --LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR's Lodgings.

_Enter_ SERJEANT TROUNCE, CORPORAL FLINT, _and four_
SOLDIERS.


1 _Sol_. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each
for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

2 _Sol_. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons.

3 _Sol_.
Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a volley, and if
we be to have a spokesman, there's the corporal is the lieutenant's
countryman, and knows his humour.

_Flint_. Let me alone for that. I served three years, within a
bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniskillions, and I never will
see a sweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purse. I
put a great shammock in his hat this morning, and I'll be bound for
him he'll wear it, was it as big as Steven's Green.

4 _Sol_. I say again then you talk like youngsters, like militia
striplings: there's a discipline, look'ee in all things, whereof the
serjeant must be our guide; he's a gentleman of words; he understands
your foreign lingo, your figures, and such like auxiliaries in
scoring. Confess now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing,
ben't he your only man?

_Flint_. Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the
gift of reading.

_Trounce_: Good soldiers, and fellow-gentlemen, if you make me
your spokesman, you will show the more judgment; and let me alone for
the argument. I'll be as loud as a drum, and point blank from the
purpose.

_All_. Agreed, agreed.

_Flint_. Oh, faith! here comes the lieutenant. --Now, Serjeant.

_Trounce_. So then, to order. --Put on your mutiny looks; every
man grumble a little to himself, and some of you hum the Deserter's
March.

_Enter_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR.


_O'Con_. Well, honest lads, what is it you have to complain of?

_Sol_. Ahem! hem!

_Trounce_. So please your honour, the very grievance of the
matter is this:--ever since your honour differed with justice
Credulous, our inn-keepers use us most scurvily. By my halbert, their
treatment is such, that if your spirit was willing to put up with it,
flesh and blood could by no means agree; so we humbly petition that
your honour would make an end of the matter at once, by running away
with the justice's daughter, or else get us fresh quarters,--hem! hem!

_O'Con_. Indeed! Pray which of the houses use you ill?

1 _Sol_. There's the Red Lion an't half the civility of the old
Red Lion.

2 _Sol_. There's the White Horse, if he wasn't case-hardened,
ought to be ashamed to show his face.

_O'Con_. Very well; the Horse and the Lion shall answer for it at
the quarter sessions.

_Trounce_. The two Magpies are civil enough; but the Angel uses
us like devils, and the Rising Sun refuses us light to go to bed by.

_O'Con_. Then, upon my word, I'll have the Rising Sun put down,
and the Angel shall give security for his good behaviour; but are you
sure you do nothing to quit scores with them?

_Flint_. Nothing at all, your honour, unless now and then we
happen to fling a cartridge into the kitchen fire, or put a
spatterdash or so into the soup; and sometimes Ned drums up and down
stairs a little of a night.

_O'Con_. Oh, all that's fair; but hark'ee, lads, I must have no
grumbling on St. Patrick's Day; so here, take this, and divide it
amongst you. But observe me now,--show yourselves men of spirit, and
don't spend sixpence of it in drink.

_Trounce_. Nay, hang it, your honour, soldiers should never bear
malice; we must drink St. Patrick's and your honour's health.

_All_. Oh, damn malice! St. Patrick's and his honour's by all
means.

_Flint_. Come away, then, lads, and first we'll parade round the
Market-cross, for the honour of King George.

1 _Sol_. Thank your honour. --Come along; St. Patrick, his honour,
and strong beer for ever! [_Exeunt_ SOLDIERS. ]

_O'Con_. Get along, you thoughtless vagabonds! yet, upon my
conscience, 'tis very hard these poor fellows should scarcely have
bread from the soil they would die to defend.


_Enter_ DOCTOR ROSY.

Ah, my little Dr. Rosy, my Galen a-bridge, what's the news?

_Rosy_. All things are as they were, my Alexander; the justice is
as violent as ever: I felt his pulse on the matter again, and,
thinking his rage began to intermit, I wanted to throw in the bark of
good advice, but it would not do. He says you and your cut-throats
have a plot upon his life, and swears he had rather see his daughter
in a scarlet fever than in the arms of a soldier.

_O'Con_. Upon my word the army is very much obliged to him. Well,
then, I must marry the girl first, and ask his consent afterwards.

_Rosy_. So, then, the case of her fortune is desperate, hey?

_O'Con_. Oh, hang fortune,--let that take its chance; there is a
beauty in Lauretta's simplicity, so pure a bloom upon her charms.

_Rosy_. So there is, so there is. You are for beauty as nature
made her, hey! No artificial graces, no cosmetic varnish, no beauty in
grey, hey!

_O'Con_. Upon my word, doctor, you are right; the London ladies
were always too handsome for me; then they are so defended, such a
circumvallation of hoop, with a breastwork of whale-bone that would
turn a pistol-bullet, much less Cupid's arrows,--then turret on turret
on top, with stores of concealed weapons, under pretence of black
pins,--and above all, a standard of feathers that would do honour to a
knight of the Bath. Upon my conscience, I could as soon embrace an
Amazon, armed at all points.

_Rosy_. Right, right, my Alexander! my taste to a tittle.

_O'Con_. Then, doctor, though I admire modesty in women, I like
to see their faces. I am for the changeable rose; but with one of
these quality Amazons, if their midnight dissipations had left them
blood enough to raise a blush, they have not room enough in their
cheeks to show it. To be sure, bashfulness is a very pretty thing;
but, in my mind, there is nothing on earth so impudent as an
everlasting blush.

_Rosy_. My taste, my taste! --Well, Lauretta is none of these. Ah!
I never see her but she put me in mind of my poor dear wife.

_O'Con_. [_Aside_. ] Ay, faith; in my opinion she can't do a
worse thing. Now he is going to bother me about an old hag that has
been dead these six years.

_Rosy_. Oh, poor Dolly! I never shall see her like again; such an
arm for a bandage--veins that seemed to invite the lancet. Then her
skin, smoothe and white as a gallipot; her mouth as large and not
larger than the mouth of a penny phial; her lips conserve of roses;
and then her teeth--none of your sturdy fixtures--ache as they would,
it was but a small pull, and out they came. I believe I have drawn
half a score of her poor dear pearls--[_weeps_]--But what avails
her beauty? Death has no consideration--one must die as well as
another.

_O'Con_. [_Aside_. ] Oh, if he begins to moralize---[_Takes
out his snuff-box_. ]

_Rosy_. Fair and ugly, crooked or straight, rich or poor--flesh
is grass--flowers fade!

_O'Con_. Here, doctor, take a pinch, and keep up your spirits.

_Rosy_. True, true, my friend; grief can't mend the matter--all's
for the best; but such a woman was a great loss, lieutenant.

_O'Con_. To be sure, for doubtless she had mental accomplishments
equal to her beauty.

_Rosy_. Mental accomplishments! she would have stuffed an
alligator, or pickled a lizard, with any apothecary's wife in the
kingdom. Why, she could decipher a prescription, and invent the
ingredients, almost as well as myself: then she was such a hand at
making foreign waters! --for Seltzer, Pyrmont, Islington, or
Chalybeate, she never had her equal; and her Bath and Bristol springs
exceeded the originals. --Ah, poor Dolly! she fell a martyr to her own
discoveries.

_O'Con_. How so, pray?

_Rosy_. Poor soul! her illness was occasioned by her zeal in
trying an improvement on the Spa-water by an infusion of rum and acid.

_O'Con_. Ay, ay, spirits never agree with water-drinkers.

_Rosy_. No, no, you mistake. Rum agreed with her well enough; it
was not the rum that killed the poor dear creature, for she died of a
dropsy. Well, she is gone, never to return, and has left no pledge of
our loves behind. No little babe, to hang like a label round papa's
neck. Well, well, we are all mortal--sooner or later--flesh is grass--
flowers fade.

_O'Con_. [_Aside_. ] Oh, the devil! --again!

_Rosy_. Life's a shadow--the world a stage--we strut an hour.

_O'Con_. Here, doctor. [_Offers snuff_. ]

_Rosy_. True, true, my friend: well, high grief can't cure it.
All's for the best, hey! my little Alexander?

_O'Con_. Right, right; an apothecary should never be out of
spirits. But come, faith, 'tis time honest Humphrey should wait on the
justice; that must be our first scheme.

_Rosy_. True, true; you should be ready: the clothes are at my
house, and I have given you such a character, that he is impatient to
have you: he swears you shall be his body-guard. Well, I honour the
army, or I should never do so much to serve you.

_O'Con_. Indeed I am bound to you for ever, doctor; and when once
I'm possessed of my dear Lauretta, I will endeavour to make work for
you as fast as possible.

_Rosy_. Now you put me in mind of my poor wife again.

_O'Con_. Ah, pray forget her a little: we shall be too late.

_Rosy_. Poor Dolly!

_O'Con_. 'Tis past twelve.

_Rosy_. Inhuman dropsy!

_O'Con_. The justice will wait.

_Rosy_. Cropped in her prime!

_O'Con_. For heaven's sake, come!

_Rosy_. Well, flesh is grass.

_O'Con_. O, the devil!

_Rosy_. We must all die--

_O'Con_. Doctor!

_Rosy_. Kings, lords, and common whores--


[_Exeunt_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR _forcing_ Rosy _off_. ]




SCENE II. --_A Room in_ JUSTICE CREDULOUS' _House_.

_Enter_ LAURETTA _and_ MRS. BRIDGET CREDULOUS.


_Lau_. I repeat it again, mamma, officers are the prettiest men
in the world, and Lieutenant O'Connor is the prettiest officer I ever
saw.

_Mrs. Bri_. For shame, Laura! how can you talk so? --or if you
must have a military man, there's Lieutenant Plow, or Captain Haycock,
or Major Dray, the brewer, are all your admirers; and though they are
peaceable, good kind of men, they have as large cockades, and become
scarlet, as well as the fighting folks.

_Lau_. Psha! you know, mamma, I hate militia officers; a set of
dunghill cocks with spurs on--heroes scratched off a church door--
clowns in military masquerade, wearing the dress without supporting
the character. No, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-
day, and his head shot off to-morrow.